


Don't Shut Me Out Now

by orphan_account



Series: Just Hear Me Out Now [1]
Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Clubbing, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, its not in a negative manner, lots of sweater stealing, sunscreen penises, use of the q slur by a character to describe themself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-01 21:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4035646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: "Louis starts to have feelings for guys. He gets frustrated that he can't really do anything about it on tour. Harry suggests he enlists Nick's help to mess around and figure out his feelings. Nick would be happy to help, Harry says. Louis brushes the idea off but as he becomes more and more frustrated, he starts to wonder if it would be the worst thing in the world.</p><p>Louis has no experience with guys. Having Nick be near him with purpose and even just touch his thigh makes him jumpy. It's a slow road. Louis is nervous and vulnerable (which he covers up with bravado and barbed comments). Nick thinks Louis is low-key battling internalised homophobia and is in equal parts exasperated with Louis and understanding."</p><p>or canon Tomlinshaw au featuring teasing and banter and pranks and feelings</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Shut Me Out Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aceaceace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceaceace/gifts).



> hi! this is my first fic EVER and I'm very excited about it! thanks to my wonderful betas and brit-picker who will be revealed after the authors are revealed!

It wasn’t as if Louis needed an obscenely tall, gangly life coach to guide him through his big, queer crisis, it was just. He sort of needed a tall, gangly life coach to guide him through his big, queer crisis. 

It had taken Louis well over a year to admit to himself, or anyone else that he could possibly be anything other than straight. He had a girlfriend that he loved, so that was that. Right? Wrong. So completely and utterly wrong, he realized, after Eleanor had split up with him after Christmas. 

Although Louis had been toying with thoughts that he may be attracted to people of other genders, it hadn’t been something he actively considered until the breakup. Liam had dragged him out to get pissed and grind on strangers to get over his breakup and it had taken a free meal and a rather exaggerated pout from Liam to even get him out of the house. Three drinks in and someone with large hands and pungent cologne pressing into Louis’ back didn’t bother him. In fact, he pressed back into the stranger’s embrace and bared his neck for the taller person to mouth along his skin and, well. He decided it was probably time to take this sexuality business into consideration.

Louis’ real mistake was telling Harry. He should have known, really, that his best mate would have blown this totally out of proportion. Louis knew in his heart that Harry was just trying to help and be there for him but, Jesus. Before Louis could even tell Harry to relax and talk it out with him, Harry had dived across the kitchen counter to cuddle him close and, fuck, Harry was big and his breath smelled like bananas so Louis stomped on his foot. He apologized in a not-so-genuine fashion after Harry brought out the sad doe eyes. But then Harry began offering up support and advice and there’s a reason why the long-haired boy has been Louis’ favorite human for five years.

Until his eyes had lit up with an idea. The most fucking ridiculous, terrible, horrible, no good very bad idea. The worst idea Louis has ever heard in the history of ideas. Louis had articulated this, but Harry was already pulling out his mobile and dialing and fuck, he was dialing and then he was talking and Louis couldn’t believe that this was his life.

~*~

Nick Grimshaw is on their tour. Nick Grimshaw is on their tour. Louis considers contacting the man upstairs to work out what he’d done to deserve such a harsh punishment. Sure he’s glued Liam into his shoes and swapped Alberto’s hair gel with lube, but what was some fun banter here or there? It certainly didn’t warrant this kind of special hell. 

Nothing to do about it now, Louis supposes. Although, now that Nick is here, it’s not really a coincidence that he is studiously never in the same room as Nick at the same time. He knows why Nick is here and that somehow makes it worse—that Nick is here to coddle and coach him through this current crisis and Louis never uses the word ‘embarrassed’ to describe himself but, well. He is, a bit.

It’s probably a little pathetic that Niall has to be the one to tell Louis that he’s got to stop hiding from Nick.

“He’s here to help you, Tommo,” Niall points out, poking Louis’ sides just to be a prick. “No use in hiding. He knows his stuff, eh?”

Of course Louis knows Niall is right, but that doesn’t stop him from flicking the boy right in the nose for his troubles.

~*~

Louis can’t hide forever, of course, which is made abundantly clear when he steps out of his hotel room one afternoon and runs smack into a hairy chest, poorly covered by a loudly patterned shirt. “Oof,” he mumbles smartly, glancing up into bright eyes and a smug smile.

“Ahh, Louis!” and here it goes. No going back now. “The man, the myth, the legend! You’re shorter than I remember.”

And, well, fuck that. This is already off to a shit start and everyone wonders why he’s been avoiding Nick for days on end. As it is, Louis has just crawled out of bed after a fifteen-hour slumber and his comebacks aren’t exactly tops at the moment. 

“You’re hairier than I remember,” he counters, and Nick’s eyes crinkle at the corners like he’s trying not to laugh and he shrugs like he agrees.  
Nick’s face sobers a little and he opens his mouth and nope. Nope. Louis is not doing this right now. He can’t. He thinks as quickly as his sleep-addled brain will let him and grabs the phone out of Nick’s hand, taking off.

“You little fuck,” he hears Nick yell just as he opens the elevator door at the end of the hall. It’s a special kind of satisfying to see Nick’s hand stretch out to stop the elevator just as the doors slide shut. Louis makes sure that his middle finger is clearly displayed.

 

It’s a fun cat and mouse game for several hours. Louis uses that time to psych himself up for the talk that Nick is here to have with him in the first place. Every time he tells himself he’s ready, however, he bolts. He’ll probably never be ready. He doesn’t want to go on about it.

Nick is a delightful shade of red when Louis finally lets himself be caught, and the sweat has wilted his quiff. 

“Hand it over, you squeaky little menace,” and doesn’t seem to be at all ashamed that he had to put his hands on his knobby knees to catch his breath. Louis admires that.

Louis hands over the phone amicably, like he hasn’t made Nick chase him around the hotel all afternoon for it. Nick sighs when he glances at the phone. Probably because Louis stole a sharpie from the front desk to draw an elaborate penis on the case. He’s quite proud of his artwork, and Zayn was too.

“Dinner in my room?” Nick asks and Louis thinks about it. Unfortunately, between their delightful game and the even more delightful addition to Nick’s phone case, Louis feels inclined to take the invitation. Also, he’s quite hungry.

“Alright,” Louis replies with a shrug, tugging on Nick’s sleeve, pulling him toward the elevator. “But you’re paying.”

 

They don’t talk about The Thing on the way up to Nick’s room, or while they order their dinner, or while they eat. It’s not until they’re sprawled on opposite beds, groaning with their hands clutching their tummies, that Nick decides that it’s time. 

“So. Boys,” he says and so. It’s out there now. Louis considers just leaving, but he made Nick run around the hotel today and he’s full to the brim with pasta so that’s a no-go.

“Boys,” Louis agrees, because if they’re going to do this, he’s certainly not going to make it easy.

“Just boys, d’you reckon?”

Louis sighs, and shuffles on the bed, kicking off his shoes and getting comfortable. He hates this, he fucking loathes this, feeling like he’s being scrutinized and under a microscope. “No,” he replies, staring at the ceiling. “Not just boys. Not ‘just’ anything. I think I like—I think I like everyone. Doesn’t much matter to me the gender.”

Nick hums at that and Louis squirms. What the fuck does that mean anyway? Is that a judgmental hum?

“Got a problem, mate?” Louis says lightly, but with just the right amount of venom to make it clear that he’s not above fighting about it if the situation calls. He’s probably overreacting. He doesn’t care.

He can tell the way Nick’s voice dips when he says, “Course not. Gay myself. Not as though I’ve got much room to judge others for who they like,” that Nick is trying to soothe him. Louis doesn’t want to be soothed. 

“I’d think not,” he shoots back, trying desperately to gain control of the situation again.

Nick lets out a soft sigh, not like he’s irritated, more like he’s trying to figure out how to be gentle and Louis doesn’t know how to tell him that he doesn’t want or need gentle. “You’re not on trial, Tomlinson,” Nick says, “I just want to get an idea before I start spewing advice, or whatever it is Harold wanted me to do with you.”

Louis huffs and flips over on the bed to face Nick. Nick is already looking at him, which makes his skin itch. He thinks he can hear rain pattering on the windows, behind the closed curtains. That helps relax him, a bit. 

“I don’t want to—I can’t come out yet,” he bites out, steeling his gaze, “I’m not like you, people think—they think they fucking know me and they don’t know me, they don’t know anything about me but if I come out they will.”

Nick is nodding, not like he knows, but like he gets where Louis is coming from. “So I’m helping you come to terms, then, Tomlinson,” he clarifies, taking in Louis’ nod of agreement. “And I’m helping you come out.”

Louis jolts at that, not a full body jolt, but enough that Nick probably notices. He thinks for a moment. Coming out. Hmm. After a few moments of contemplation, Louis shrugs. “Eventually,” he agrees.

Nick sits up on the bed and claps his hands together once, loudly. “Excellent!” he says in a tone that suggests he’s already got a plan in motion in that weird, hipster brain of his. “I’m going to take you out.”

Louis giggles nervously, sitting up as well. His feet dangle slightly above the floor and he frowns at that. “Take me out like,” he makes a slicing motion across his throat. 

Nick smiles wryly, shaking his head. “No, Tomlinson, if I wanted to take you out like that, I could’ve done so already.”

Louis lets out a genuine cackle at that, hand holding his tummy and bending over. “You couldn’t even catch me all afternoon,” he shrieks delightedly and Nick is rolling his eyes and it’s a bit fond and Louis resolutely does not care.

“No,” Nick laughs, “I mean out.”

 

“Out” as it happens, includes Harry, Niall, Liam, Zayn and Nick’s producer, Matt. Matt’s been on tour with them as well, working with Nick and Louis is suspicious because he doesn’t know how much Matt knows. This requires Louis to put a fair amount of trust in Nick Grimshaw which. He’s working on.

Currently, Louis is tucked into a booth with a drink, something a bit minty and very strong with Zayn by his side. They’re watching Harry and Niall wiggle on the dance floor, drunkenly waving their arms about and Louis is laughing. He hears a grunt that brings his attention to the spot across from him in time to see Nick sliding in. Zayn mutters an excuse to Louis and heads over to the bar to join Liam.

“So, why aren’t you dancing?” Nick inquires, stirring his drink with a pink straw. His fingers are stupidly long. It’s distracting.

Louis shrugs uncomfortably, struggling to keep eye contact. He doesn’t want to look weak, but he also vehemently does not want to have another one of these conversations at a loud bar. 

“Dunno,” he mumbles, rubbing a finger over the rope tattoo circling his wrist. It makes him feel grounded. “There aren’t any birds tha’ve caught me eye yet.”

Nick gives him a pointed look and Louis pretends he doesn’t understand why. He hasn’t had that much to drink yet.

“I meant with a lad, Louis,” Nick explains and Louis looks away. He feels so small and out of place and hot and itchy.

“Hey-hey,” Nick reaches out and touches the back of Louis’ hand and Louis jolts. “It’s alright. What if,” Nick clears his throat and rolls his eyes to the ceiling, “what if you danced with me?”

Louis’ first instinct is to laugh. Dance. Dance! With Nick Grimshaw! Dancing with a lad in public was scary enough, but imagining doing it with Nick—well, maybe it wasn’t a half bad idea. Somewhere in the back of Louis’ mind, he wonders idly if the alcohol is impairing his judgment but now he’s think this might be fun. Thinking it might be fun is much easier than riddling his mind with anxiety about dancing with a boy.

Louis eases back into reality when he realizes Nick is squinting at him like he’s trying to figure Louis out. Louis giggles and downs the rest of his drink.

“Alright,” he states, nodding. “Alright, let’s go.” 

Now or never, Louis figures.

 

The dance floor is scorching. Louis understands that they’re in the U.S. and it’s the middle of the summer, but the way his tshirt is sticking to his back is making him self-conscious and not particularly confident about letting Nick touch him. 

It doesn’t take him long to put it in his head that it’s Nick and he doesn’t care if it bothers Nick that he’s sweaty. He doesn’t care one way or another if anything bothers Nick, in fact. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that he dislikes the taller man.

They’re moving in tandem, but not touching and Louis’ eyes are darting around the dance floor, not willing to let his guard down even though it appears as though no one is interested in them. Nick finally let’s out an impatient sigh and wraps an arm around Louis, gripping his waist with his large hand and. Alright. His hand is huge, and his fingers are ridiculously long and Louis feels a little lost in his head.

“Did I say you could touch me,” Louis demands, but doesn’t pull away and Nick raises an eyebrow. He moves as if he’s going to remove his hand from Louis’ waist and Louis lunges forward, wrapping his arms around Nick’s neck to keep him trapped there.

“Did I say you could touch me,” Nick mocks in a high, squeaky voice, a terrible imitation. Louis’ huffs indignantly and presses his hips to Nick’s.

“You’re like a giraffe,” Louis comments, no heat behind the words and Nick barks out a laugh, arm moving lower and lower on Louis’ body. He shakes his head like he doesn’t know how he got in this situation and Louis wonders what Nick thinks of him. Tries to remind himself that he resolutely does not care. They dance for three songs, close and hot and Louis doesn’t know how they ended up here.

~*~

When Louis asks Liam to watch a movie in the hotel theater room the next afternoon, he doesn’t even bother to mask that he’s avoiding Nick. He overheard Matt teasing Nick early last night about how much he hates movies so it’s not a coincidence. Liam narrows his eyes at Louis thoughtfully at the suggestion and he looks a bit like a disgruntled bear cub, but he agrees in the end. They’re the only two in the theater room watching the third Spiderman installment so Louis begins to babble about Nick. 

“’s like,” Louis says through a mouthful of popcorn, earning a vaguely disgusted look from Liam. “He’s not even teaching me anything, y’know? He’s supposed to be coaching me through this big crisis and he hasn’t given me a bit of useful advice!”

Liam turned toward Louis, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s taking it slow,” Liam suggests, shrugging. “I’d say he knows what he’s doing. He’s proper gay, right?”  
Louis stifles a laugh and an eye-roll at the same time. It’s quite a feat. “He’s ‘proper gay’,” he agrees, leaning his head back against the theater seat. 

Liam’s been great through all this, quite amicable, and ready to listen and nod his head at all the right parts. Not that Louis had any doubts in the first place. 

“I s’pose I should give him a push,” he muses and hears Liam sigh like he does when Louis begins to devise a prank he knows he won’t be able to weasel his way out of. “I deserve answers, don’t I?” Louis demands, flicking a bit of popcorn at Liam’s face. 

Liam bats the popcorn away expertly and rubs a hand over his stubbly face. “Be nice to him, Louis,” is the only thing he advises, because there’s no convincing Louis once he’s made up his mind. Five years of experience has taught Liam well.

Louis grins and it’s sharp and bitey and Liam sends some good vibes Nick’s way. He’s going to need them.

 

Louis finds Nick later in the afternoon, lounging by the pool with Harry and Matt. They’re all lathered in sunscreen and have water bottles piled around them. Harry’s doing, Louis is sure. Harry doesn’t let himself burn if he can help it, it’s bad for his sensitive skin, and he won’t let anyone else burn or dehydrate either.

“’lo boys,” Louis calls, plopping down on the chair next to Nick. Harry looks up, pinning Louis with a laser-frog stare and a giant, dimply grin that Louis can’t help but return. Matt waves absently over his book. Louis hears Nick grunt and glances over to see him studying Louis with one eye open. His back is freckly and so are his shoulders and Louis feels warm deep in his tummy.

“Tomlinson,” Nick mumbles lazily, a sleepy smile on his face. Louis narrows his eyes and shoves Nick’s freckly shoulder.  
“Go back to sleep,” he grumbles and Nick shrugs, agreeing easily. Harry is munching on something horribly green colored and watching them with a smile on his face. Louis sticks his tongue out at him.

He and Harry talk quietly about tour, the boys, Lux, football, Jeff. They’re chatting for the good part of an hour, Nick dozing between them when Louis gets a brilliant idea. He asks Harry for the lotion bottle which Harry happily hands over. He’s been trying to get Louis to lather up since he arrived at the pool. Louis smirks, opening the bottle and gets to work. Harry hisses, lunging for the bottle and Louis jerks out of the way. Another squirt here and there and his work is complete.

Louis pulls out his phone to snap a photo and puts it on Instagram, tagging Nick for good measure. Harry sighs, shaking his head, but the dimple in his cheek betrays him, tells how amused he really is. Matt is beside himself, shaking with laughter, book long abandoned.  
It’s another hour later when Louis begins to rub the sunscreen into Nick’s back, gentle. Nick stirs, turns his head and a strange expression crosses his faces when he sees what’s occurring.

“I don’t trust you one bit, Louis,” he states, relaxing into the chair. “But I’ve decided I’m not going to complain about a free massage.” Louis shrugs, laughing a bit.

“I think you got a text while you were asleep,” he lies, prompting Nick to unlock his phone. Nick mutters a ‘thanks’ and makes a noise of surprise when he sees the notification that he’s been tagged in a photo. Matt’s face is bright red and he’s clutching his hand to his mouth in an effort to hold in his laughter. Harry is shaking his head, and Louis is positively glowing with anticipation.

“’I am such a huge wang, I decided to decorate my back with one. –Nick Grimshaw’,” Nick reads aloud and turns to Louis slowly. 

Laughter explodes from Matt, Harry, and Louis. Nick stands, moving toward Louis, who is still clad in denim shorts and vans, sans socks. The smile melts from Louis’ face when he notices the predatory look on Nick’s. 

“Don’t even think about it, Grimshaw,” he warns, standing up and beginning to back away. Louis’ height deficiency immediately hinders him and Nick is able to easily lunge forward and grab him.

“H! Harry help,” Louis squawks, squirming and wiggling in Nick’s arms. 

“He’s going to have a penis branded on his back for a week, Louis, you’re on your own,” he chuckles. Louis is going to put itching powder in all his stupid hats and boots.

The last thing he sees before he’s flung into the pool is Nick’s face up close, laughing uproariously. He’s got freckles above his pink upper lip and his eyelashes are obscenely long. Louis, as it happens, doesn’t have time to appreciate those features before his whole world is surrounded by water.

He bursts to the surface, choking and laughing to hear Nick, Matt, Harry and now Zayn making fun of him and cheering Nick on. Louis brandishes his middle finger proudly and feels a pull in his chest when he realizes he might have finally found someone who plays with him in return.

 

The next day is the day laundry is distributed. Louis keys into Harry’s room and snags a sweater, as is customary. He ambles around the hotel all day, flapping the sleeves and bragging about his capture. Strangely when he shows off to Harry himself—who is usually delighted by how big his clothes fit on the smaller boy—he looks as if he’s about to burst into laughter. 

Louis makes a funny face at him and examines the print on the shirt. It’s a bit bolder, a bit more obnoxious than Harry’s usual taste, so Louis supposes Harry just thinks it looks silly on him. He runs off to show his steal to people who won’t laugh. As it is, after his encounter with Harry, everyone looks as though they’re about to laugh at him. This game turns not-so-fun very quickly and Louis heads up to Nick’s room to pick on him.

Louis raps on Nick’s door and when Nick doesn’t answer quickly enough, he raps harder. It’s a minute or so later before the door’s being pulled open and Nick is standing there in nothing but a pair of boxers and a strange expression. He’s clearly had a nap and Louis briefly feels guilty for waking Nick up. Nick’s chest is so hairy and his tummy is hairy and so are his thighs and, well, Louis tells himself that he didn’t forget for a moment why he was here in the first place. Nick yawns, scratches his chest lazily and gives Louis a once-over.

“Why’ve you got my sweater on, short-arse?” Nick asks, and Louis’ jaw drops as he looks at the sweater, staring, hoping this is a cruel, sick joke.

“It’s not-! This is Harry’s sweater,” he crows, wagging his finger at Nick. “That I stole from Harry’s room, out of Harry’s laundry pile!”

Nick’s got a smirk on his face and is shaking his head slowly. “Sorry, pup, laundry must’ve gotten sorted wrong. Sweater’s mine,” he informs and this, well. This won’t do.

Louis huffs and he feels warm all over all of a sudden, like he’s been lying in the sun. It’s radiating from his tummy throughout his whole body and he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Well-,” he says, looking at Nick fiercely, daring him to make fun of him. “-Well, you just take this, then, giraffe man.”

Louis begins pulling off the sweater, the long sleeves getting caught up in his arms and Louis is grumbling the whole time, insults about Nick being an orangutan and a praying mantis.

“You haven’t got to-,” Nick begins and Louis stops pulling off the sweater halfway. “You don’t need to take it off, Louis. It’s cold in here anyway. Just—just come in and keep the sweater on and we’ll talk.”

Louis deliberates for a moment, but when he realizes that he’s standing in Nick’s doorway, tangled in fabric, he rushes inside. Nick closes the door behind him and plops on the bed.

Louis pulls the sweater back on and sits down on the opposite bed, propping his dirty bare feet on the pillows. Nick, annoyingly enough, doesn’t react.

“How’s the show,” Louis asks lightly, for lack of something better to say. Nick smiles a bit, lays back against a nest of pillows and blankets and he is so distractingly bare. It makes Louis itch how comfortable Nick seems to be with him.

“’s good,” Nick replies, tilting his head in Louis’ direction. He’s always got this—expression on his face when he looks at Louis and Louis is barely listening to him trying to decipher it. Louis is always picking on Nick, trying to irritate him, humiliate him, and step on his giant toes. So why does Nick look at him that way, like he’s comfortably fond?

“-Because Matt’s got to be to the schedule at all times,” Nick laughs and Louis forces a laugh, nodding, pretending he’s been paying attention all along.

They spend all afternoon talking and then, too lazy to meet the rest of the band and crew for dinner, order room service and talk for the rest of the evening. It’s nice and it’s fun, and Louis likes having someone who can match his own banter. After dinner, eventually, the ever-present itch under Louis’ skin disappears and Louis feels like he’s definitely made a friend in Nick Grimshaw. He supposes later as he’s smoking on the balcony, staring at the stars, that he also sees a pig fly by.

~*~

Louis decides that, after pre-drinks with Niall and Liam before one night out, that this is going to be the night he’s going to pull a bloke. A real-life, not in his wet dreams, solid, man. Niall asks at some point if Nick suggested this and when Louis replies that Nick doesn’t know about his plan, Niall and Liam give him their best matching disappointed and concerned parent frown.

“’s’not like I’ve got ask him for permission when I wanna do something queer, is it,” he demands and they both shrug their shoulders and lay off. Louis isn’t satisfied, but he also vehemently does not want to push this, so he picks up his cup, let’s out a cheer and takes another drink.

 

Louis is drunk. He’s drunk and he’s lost sight of Liam and Niall, but Alberto is in his eye line, so he continues to prowl. He’s grumpy because he spent a lot of time on his hair and his ass looks fantastic and his t-shirt shows off his collarbones nicely and no one is chatting him up.

He has, however, been making eyes with a bloke in the corner who seems to be bored with his current conversation and with a surge of boldness, Louis crooks his finger for the man to come to him. The dark haired man raises one eyebrow, bids goodbye to his company and begins to make his way toward Louis. 

Louis feels an uncomfortable, nervous stirring in his tummy and his mind jolts to Nick, who made his tummy feel warm and fluttery. He immediately banishes the thought as the man arrives in front of him. He’s of average height, built like Liam and has dark brown eyes. Not Louis’ usual type, he muses—he usually likes ‘em a bit rail-y—but still cute.

“Who’re you then,” he asks, straight to the point, jutting out his chin. The man smiles, clearly amused and tilts his head down toward Louis’. 

“Dante,” he replies, folding his arms. “You?”  
Louis grins, all pointy teeth and pulls Dante in close. “’m Louis,” he says in the muscular man’s ear, breathing against his neck. “Would you like to dance?”

 

A few texts are sent out from Louis and Dante to all of their respective mates in the car ride back to the hotel. It’s a little awkward with Alberto in the front seat, feels a bit like his dad is driving him and his hookup home with the knowledge of what’s going to happen when they get there. Even in his drunken state, however, Louis knows it’s always better to be safe than sorry.

They arrive safely and unobserved to the top floor of the hotel and Alberto leaves them to it, keying into his own room with a “goodnight”. Louis and Dante stumble a bit down the hall, Louis gripping his wrist and giggling. Louis accidentally kicks a door as they fumble along and just as they reach Louis’ room, said door flies open and a shocked noise comes from the doorway.

Louis turns and his heart drops into his tummy when he sees Nick standing there, squinting and looking startled and vaguely upset as he takes in the situation.

“Nick,” Louis begins, starting forward, but Nick puts a hand up to stop him. Harry’s door opens and he peeks out curiously.

“Taught you all you need to know, I suppose,” Nick says, and the cheerfulness in his voice sounds false and Louis’ chest aches. “Good luck!”

Dante is making words that sound inquiring but all Louis can hear is the bang of Nick’s door and Harry is staring at him like he’s done something wrong, with pity in his eyes and Louis feels so, so small.

Everyone retreats to their rooms and Dante only spends about ten minutes there before Louis is calling a car for him and sending him on his way. Dante gives Louis his number and his smile is genuine and he squeezes Louis’ shoulder and wishes him well before he walks out the door.

Louis curls up in Nick’s sweater and his own briefs, doesn’t even bother to shower and since no one is there to witness it, he cries a bit. The alcohol is mostly worn off so it’s only his guilt and his feelings that fuel him to text Nick, tears dripping on his pillow.

“didnt fuk him . please dont stop tlking to me . cldnt stand it if u did”

He dries his tears and falls asleep after three cigarettes, two cups of tea and an incalculable amount of times checking for Nick’s reply. It doesn’t come.

 

His eyes feel like they’re plastered together and his throat is as dry as the air in Arizona. Louis groans and drags himself to the bathroom. He immediately gulps three glasses of water in a row and downs two paracetomol. He sighs, thinking of the night before and all the apologies he’s going to have to make today. If anyone will even bother to speak to him.

His first apology is easy, to Dante, a long-winded text message that receives an almost immediate reply of a smiley emoji and two turtles. Louis vehemently hopes that they can be friends in the future. He dresses and heads down the hall, pounding on Harry’s door. There’s no reply, at first, and Louis wouldn’t blame Harry if he ignored Louis completely.

What takes him by surprise is Nick’s door opening and Louis’ heart immediately jackrabbits before he realizes that it’s Harry poking his head out into the hallway. 

“I’ll talk to you later, Lou,” he says, and gives Louis a gentle smile because he’s Harry and Louis does not deserve him.

Louis assumes that Harry’s words mean that he’s not going to be speaking to Nick any time in the near future either. That leaves him with Niall and Liam, who are down at the breakfast bar in the hotel. 

“Lads,” he calls out weakly when he sees them, and when they turn, they’ve both got bright smiles on their faces. Louis’ shoulders relax and he ambles over to his boys.

“Rough night, Tommo?” Liam asks, after swallowing a bite of sausage. Niall’s got his mouth totally full, but is trying to speak anyway and Louis giggles at the sight.

Louis shrugs, sliding into the seat next to Niall who nudges Louis’ shoulder with his own in response.

“Alright,” he lies, snatching a bit of food off of Niall’s plate. Niall only shares his food with Louis, a rule established years before. “Wanted to apologize for leaving you boys there without coming to you,” he mumbles, and god, he is so shit at apologizing. 

Liam reaches around Niall, ruffles Louis’ hair affectionately and Niall rests his head upon Louis’ shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, Lou, you texted,” Niall replies, voice a little too loud, drumming around in his aching head.

Liam makes a noise of agreement around his toast and that’s that. They’ve all been through worse in the past and they’ll be there for each other through more in the future. They’re great like that.

 

Louis spends the latter part of the afternoon on the phone with his mum. She always gives the best advice, knows exactly what to say and she’s always gentle with him. Louis needs to be coddled sometimes.

“But, like,” he begins, rolling over in the plush white sheets, stretching, “I fucked up, mum. I really did. What if he hates me, now?”

Louis hears her sigh in his ear and he knows he’s about to be scolded.

“No one could hate you, Louis, least of all, Nick, or Harry for that matter,” she begins, and he hears the whirring of her computer in the background. “You just need to speak with them, tell them how you’re feeling and more importantly, listen.”

Louis nods even though she can’t see him and his heart feels full, like it always does when he speaks to his mum. She always knows how to make him feel good. 

“I just—I like him, mum, like, proper,” he whispers, a confession to her and to himself. “I’m not even supposed to like him as a friend. He’s a knob,” he half laughs, half whimpers.

His mum hums; a soft sound and he can hear the smile in her voice when she begins to speak again. “Talk to him, darling. Tell him the truth,” and isn’t that the best, and only advice? Louis thanks her, send his love to the girls and Ernie and Dan and they say goodbye.

 

Louis is considering room service when there’s a knock on his door. He’s never bolted from his bed faster, and he stumbles over his own feet on the way to answer it. He’s only marginally disappointed when it’s Harry and not Nick standing before him. Louis feels guilty because Harry looks exhausted like he’s been up all night. Louis figures that he probably was and he looks at the floor.

“Nick’s gone,” Harry informs him and Louis’ whole body goes ice cold. He becomes rigid except for his jaw dropping.

“No, he—,” Louis’ mind is racing, and his top lip is trembling and he doesn’t know what to do. “He can’t leave,” Louis finally croaks, staring up at Harry.

Harry gives a small shrug, but Louis sees the sympathy in his eyes and grasps for it like a life raft.

“Tomorrow was his last day anyway, Louis,” Harry reminds him quietly, and fuck fuck fuck fuck. Louis hadn’t even been keeping track of the days; he’d been so busy and having fun with Nick and the boys and Matt, hadn’t even realized it was almost time for Nick to return to London.

“I’ve got-,” his eyes fill and he scrapes his hands over his face, feeling frantic. “I didn’t get to apologize,” he moans cracking his head against the doorframe.

Harry finally breaks, pulling Louis into the hotel room and shutting the door behind him. He drags Louis over to the bed, pulls him down and wraps around him like a big spoon. Harry is never the big spoon, Louis observes, somehow, with everything going on in his brain.

“I want to kiss him, Harry,” Louis confesses quickly, because if it’s not fast, he’ll never get it out. “I want to go to him right now. If we didn’t have a show, I’d be on a plane to London right now to win him back. I want to hold his hand,” he rambles, and he feels so safe with his best friend behind him in the dim hotel room. “I want him to call me his boyfriend and I wanna wear his dumb sweaters, on purpose. I fucked up.”

Harry huffs out a sigh and knocks his fist into Louis’ side, gently, “Tell him that, Louis.” Louis lets out a small whine and snuggles back closer to Harry.  


They spend the next hour or so, lying there and whispering back and forth until Harry announces that it’s time for them to go to the venue for sound check. Before they leave, Harry reassures him that it’s going to be okay. Louis doesn’t believe him, but he’s going to try his fucking hardest to make it better. That’s going to have to be enough.

~*~

Louis’ activities for the weekend consist entirely of eating, sleeping, playing shows and plotting to win Nick back. He’s gotten advice from every corner: the band, Alberto, Caroline, his sisters, Dante—who is quite cool—and even Eleanor. She’s been particularly helpful, which is weird and strange and Louis doesn’t want to go on about it.

Sunday night, which is Monday morning at home, Nick is set to be back in the studio. Louis, however, is in his bunk on the bus with his headphones in, waiting to hear Nick’s distinct voice. He misses it, oddly enough.

They’ve got a break for three full days after tomorrow and that’s when Louis plans to make his move. He’s already got a flight booked. He’s got plans.

As the music that cues the start of the show sings in Louis’ ears, he gets a sensation of anxiety in the pit of his tummy. He knows, logically, that Nick isn’t going to go on the radio and talk about Louis fucking someone and fucking him over in the process and yet. He’s still nervous.

“Good morning,” Louis hears Nick’s cheerful greeting booming in his ears, causing a delighted smile to light up his face. Louis, as it happens, is sort of weak for Nick. 

Nick talks right out of the gate about how it was to work from One Direction’s tour and is, of course, a total professional. He’s very complimentary of their team and whenever he refers to the boys, he refers to them as a whole, not as any member individually. Louis didn’t expect anything more, but he does feel oddly insecure about how Nick doesn’t mention any of their pranks or shenanigans. Louis has to remind himself again that he’s mucked up their whole friendship and that makes listening a bit less appealing. It’s getting late anyway, so Louis closes his laptop, wraps up his headphones and curls up in his bunk, swaddled in Nick’s sweater. It still smells faintly of Nick’s cologne. Louis falls asleep with Nick’s voice echoing in his ears. 

It’s his best sleep in days.

The next afternoon, Louis is packing his suitcase. He is packing his fucking suitcase and he’s going to follow Nick all the way from Ohio to London, and he’s going to sweep him off of his gigantic feet. Or maybe just get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. Whatever feels right in the moment.

Liam is cheering him on and being supremely unhelpful, tossing shirt after shirt after shirt in the suitcase all while Louis is griping that he has to pack light, Payno, light. Louis had received Harry’s blessing for this endeavor the morning he’d decided, felt like he owed it to Harry to get his approval. Harry was encouraging, but warned him that the outcome could be decidedly less positive than Louis was planning. Louis respected that.

“Going to win my boy back,” Louis announced, slamming the case closed. 

Liam is all smiles and crinkly eyes and encouragement from where he’s perched on Louis’ bed, bouncing up and down. “Go get ‘em, Tommo.” Liam is a gift, Louis thinks, slapping him a high five. A good bean.

Louis sleeps the entire eight hour flight. It’s difficult because he can’t sleep when it’s silent and for once in his life, the plane is actually quiet. He manages.  


Louis is wearing his black jeggings that make his ass look like sin and his collarbones are out because Nick made a comment about them being pretty once when he was tipsy.

He figures he needs all the assistance he can get. When they land, Louis begins to feel itchy under his skin. He’ll be at Nick’s front door within the hour and he thinks he might vomit before he arrives.

A car takes Louis straight to Nick’s house and they get there so fast, he has no time to mentally prepare. It takes Louis a full minute to climb out of the car. He has to force himself and fuck this, he’s fucking terrified. He’s about to make a huge confession and Nick is probably still going to hate him forever and Louis is just going to look like a giant ass after Nick kicks him out. He finds himself knocking at the front door against his own will.

Louis hears barking from within and he smiles a bit, remembering Nick showing him photo after photo after video of his puppy, Pig. He’s excited to meet her, if this goes well. He hasn’t been this nervous since MSG. 

Just like that, the door is opening and Nick is standing there and he’s still Nick and he’s wearing a bathrobe and Louis desperately wants to make fun of him but he recalls why he’s here just in time to bite his tongue.

“Louis?” Nick inquires, tilting his head and seeming irritatingly unsurprised. “Wha’re you doing here?” He leans down to push Pig behind him because she’s making a sad grunting noise and scrabbling forward, trying to get to Louis. It’s quite cute.  
Louis takes a deep breath and tilts his chin up to meet Nick’s eyes. 

Now or never, he supposes. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never slept with Dante, and I’m sorry I even considered it,” he begins and put his hand up to stop Nick when he opens his mouth to reply. “I know I don’t deserve it, but please just let me get this out,” he begs. Nick nods and folds his arms.

“You didn’t give me a lot of advice, to tell the truth,” he begins again, managing a weak smile. Nick is expressionless. “But none of it would have mattered after I started falling for your freakishly tall ass.” 

There’s no way he’s getting through this without some light humor. The corner of Nick’s lip twitches and Louis counts that as a victory. “I can’t promise that I can come out very soon, and I can’t promise I’ll be home a lot, and I can’t promise that you’ll want me all the time, because I don’t think I would want me all the time—,” 

“Shut up, bite-size,” Nick mutters, pulling Louis inside, causing Pig to go nuts. “I can kiss, you, right?” he demands, pressing closer to Louis. Louis’ back is digging into the door handle and he shifts a bit to the left to relieve himself. Louis nods so hard, he feels like a bobblehead doll and he doesn’t even have time to think before Nick is leaning in.  


Just a moment before he closes his eyes, Louis sees long lashes and a strong nose and freckles dotting all along a dark hairline. He smells the cologne that has finally faded from the sweater he’s got on, strong and present and then there are lips on his.

Nick tastes like autumn feels; crisp and dark, with a bit of a bite. Louis moves his hand to Nick’s quiff, purposely fucking it up and Nick swats his side in scolding. But he’s giggling into the kiss and Louis nips at his bottom lip. It’s the best kiss of his fucking life. Louis doesn’t ever want it to end. 

They pull back eventually, but Nick rests his face in the crook of Louis’ neck for a few moments, and his breath tickles the skin there delightfully. They both just breathe each other in, grinning and holding onto one another. “Chased me all the way from America, eh, Tomlinson,” Nick teases and Louis pulls at his hair.

“Couldn’t just let go of my coach, could I?” Louis shoots back lightly and Nick makes a bite at his collarbone. Louis’ breath disappears and he lets out a soft noise. “Make out later,” he announces, pushing Nick away gently. “Sleep now.”

Nick laughs, agrees, and the pair, plus one puppy head to the master bedroom. Louis flops down on the bed and splays out like he lives here and Nick curls up next to him, opening his arms to spoon Louis. Louis puts up a bit of a fuss about always having to be the little spoon and Nick brings up height measurements. The argument stops abruptly after that.

They spend the day in bed and Nick can’t call out of work the next day but they send as much time as possible together before Louis has to go back. When they’re standing at Nick’s door, Louis’ case packed with a few of Nick’s tshirts and his neck covered in love bites, neither of the two want to say goodbye.

“I’ll be back in a month and a half,” Louis offers, leaning into Nick’s chest. Nick shakes his head, refusing.

“Too long,” he mutters, wrapping his praying mantis arms around Louis tightly. “Stay here,” he suggests brightly, like he’s come up with the most brilliant plan all week. “Pig wants you to,” he adds.

Louis raises an eyebrow and let’s out a laugh, disentangling himself from Nick’s embrace to scratch behind Pig’s ears. “Want me to stay, Pig-girl?” he asks in the baby voice he can’t quite get rid of when he’s talking to the lovely little creature.

Pig let’s out a truly pathetic noise and tries to climb his leg. Louis nods happily, standing up straight again. “Alright,” he agrees happily. “For the dog.”

Nick leans, in kisses him once, twice, three times. “Hurry back, popstar,” he mumbles against Louis’ forehead, and he smells so much like home.

“I will,” Louis replies, kissing Nick’s cheek in return, giving him a smile. 

“I’ve got something quite wonderful to come back to.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you all enjoyed it!


End file.
